


Four People Who Thought Project Nemesis Was A Terrible Idea, And The One Person Who Didn't

by churchenbells



Category: Project Nemesis Series - Brendan Reichs
Genre: Also Bolton is basically a completely different character sorry not sorry, Gen, Kind of a joke fic kind of a fix fic, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, This and canon are like distant cousins, at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23846083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchenbells/pseuds/churchenbells
Summary: AU where someone thought about where this project was ultimately going to go for like five seconds.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Four People Who Thought Project Nemesis Was A Terrible Idea, And The One Person Who Didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluecanary101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecanary101/gifts).



Juilliard Emily Bolton liked to think of himself as a good man. He loved children, could never bear to bring them into a world destined for destruction but loved them all the same. He biked and took public transportation when he could. He properly sorted his recycling. He always always _always_ held the door open as long as people kept coming. He wrapped these deeds around himself like a comforting blanket, choosing to believe that even as the world was ending he could make things right, make people as happy as they could be.

And he was being asked to murder.

"With all due respect, General Adams, that's not what this program is for. This project is meant to _save_ people, not torture them." Bolton pushed his slipping glasses back up, thankful for the fact that his black suit hid his sweat stains.

"Sir, I genuinely want to know whether you are on any potent mind-altering drugs, because to tell you the truth I cannot think of a single scenario in which using the MasterCom to whittle _down_ the number of survivors with some kind of sick death game is a better idea that using it for its intended purpose. It's capable of using memories to recreate realistic environments; the chimpanzee program has worked wonders, I don't understand why you'd deny these teenagers the right to live forever."

"Live forever?" Interjected a Dr. Gerald Lowell, who was not a doctor by profession but a neuroscientist, "I don't know what _your_ definition of living is, but where I come from, computer programs aren't alive. Whatever you've downloaded into your simulation isn't a chimpanzee as you know it. Their learning capacity is significantly reduced, and without human testing, we can't determine the exact parameters of the degradation that we've _seen_ happen over time." He huffed and sat back on his chair, wiping perspiration off his forehead.

Dr. Michael Farnelli, usually the greatest enemy of Dr. Lowell on this side of the door, for once indicated his agreement. His contemptuous gaze settled instead on Bolton. "And _furthermore_ , Mr. _Guardian._ " It was a humorless nickname for a man he perceived to be a dangerous idealist, and an idiot to boot. "Don't think for a second that we fell for that 'electromagnetic brainwaves connected to a specific period of birth' bullshit. Amanda Byers, remember her, the _qualified_ astronomist? It took her about three seconds to realize you were full of shit and threatening this project for your sweet little Papa Bear role. Teenagers, Bolton? You expected us to send teenagers, alone for the foreseeable future, into a program that may have terrible effects on their still-developing brains, and just _hope_ that they came out of that okay, in a state that we could call _survival_?"

Bolton floundered for a second, pink creeping up his cheeks. "Come out of it? You can't take them out, they're safe in there! When the fuck are they supposed to be coming out of it?"

"When we clone them?" It was Dr. Barbara Livingston, the team's cloning expert, who answered. "Jesus Christ, do you all respect my contributions this little, that you forget we're supposed to be cloning people?"

"Impossible, the cloning equipment would have little chance of surviving under the conditions brought under Nemesis, and people can still die! If you want them out that badly, put them in the androids so the program can download them back at a moment's notice!" Farnelli rolled his eyes. There was not another person in this room, except for the perhaps-senile and definitely short-sighted General Adams, who'd given a single thought to creating robotic bodies for the future of humanity. Bad enough they were "preserving" people in computer programs.

"Those are still under development; I'm not leaving the future of humanity to the off chance that androids turn out all right in the next ten years! The clones are viable! The chimps came out of it as healthy as could be!"

"Look at the goddamn calculations, Barbara!" Lowell roared. "Your cloning project was dead in the water weeks ago!"

"Everyone," Bolton took a few deep, not very calming breaths and raised his hands, "Consider the following: Space station built over millions of years. I'll even program the AI."

"HOW THE HELL DO WE GET ANYONE ON THERE?" Lowell howled, his face turning a truly worrying shade of purple. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT EONS _ARE,_ YOU CRETIN? ANY EQUIPMENT ON EARTH COULD BE LONG GONE BY THE TIME ANYONE 'WAKES UP'. ARE YOU A COMPLETE IDIOT?"

Bolton pushed his glasses up to wipe his tears of frustration. "Then what, pray tell, do you want to do?"

At this, Lowell nearly burst into tears himself. "What can we do? What can be done?"

Farnelli sat and surveyed the "war room" with a contemplative look on his face. "We can do whatever we can. The program works, at least. Projections indicate that it _could_ continue the simulation indefinitely, given nothing completely unexpected happens, which," he sighed, "we can't control for at all." He rose on shaky legs and pointed an accusatory finger at General Adams, then at Bolton. "You, General, are completely insane. We will _not_ be playing mind games with what could possibly be the last remaining members of our species. And _you_ , Guardian, are a fool. There absolutely _must_ be adults in this program. I don't know what you're thinking, citing their youth as their strength, considering you're not in support of ever letting them out at all! What is _best_ ," he concluded, "would have to be selecting as many people as we can to live peacefully in this simulation world and learn survival skills that _don't_ involve murder, and then if they _can_ be cloned properly, excellent. If they can't, well, it's not the end of the world," he joked weakly.

Lowell wept for the future of humanity. How terrible. How terrible it would be to leave the remaining humans to be trapped in a computer program, unaware of just how badly _Bolton's_ shoddy work was simplifying the complex processes of the mind. Would they be robots? Caricatures?

Livingston knew her cloning process was sound. There was no doubt in her mind that if Bolton's computer could survive, her cloning lab could, too. Lowell was just an idiot. She pictured her work in the next few years and was happy with what she saw. They were cloning, whether Lowell liked it or not.

Bolton thought of the family he'd always wanted, would never get to have. He resolved to make sure that the space station was built no matter what. He pictured it now, an isolated system where children could be born, could view the galaxies and even Earth... whatever remained of it. He would approach Livingston later, apologize to her for his thoughtlessness. He was building a time capsule; she was building a future.

"And..." General Adams began, "Where do the beta tests come in? When do we murder and clone the children once every 24 months? When do we send Juilliard to push them off cliffs and electrocute them and hijack boats and—"

"NEVER!" exclaimed the four sane people in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere, sixteen years later, Melinda Wilder curled up in her mother's arms. Unaware that she was seeing the end of the world whether the Anvil came or not, she died for the first and last time.
> 
> This is very unedited and I'm not sorry.


End file.
